Red Love
by LovelyToMeetYou
Summary: Everything was red and Ivan couldn't get enough of it. They were laying in red, protected in red, he and his red love. RoChu.


**Title:** Red Love

**Rating:** T for innuendo.

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** RoChu, Ivan centered.

**Summary:** Everything was red and Ivan couldn't get enough of it.

**Author's Notes:** Slight AU.  
><strong><br>Disclaimer:** I don't own this series in any way. Art cover is done by ~razephyr on deviantArt.

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><p>Red tunic, red ribbons all over that beautiful body. Red swollen parted lips, red flushed skin. Red tossed away clothes. Red covers that evolved their bodies. Everything was red and Ivan couldn't get enough of it. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly rough, he would bite the smaller man's lips until it bled so there could be more of that seducing color. Of course, he would never push the Chinese's limits. He knew exactly how much Yao could take it and he always bordered that exact limit, leaving the smaller man in tears of completion.<p>

They always did it in China, he realized. Probably because there was so many different cuisines and dishes he would willingly admit that were aphrodisiac, or maybe it was just Yao. There was just Yao, in those exotic Chinese tunics, with exquisite designs… which were always, always red. The Russian and the Chinese shared a love for the color of blood, a characteristic that brought them together. While Ivan actually had pleasure in the process of taking blood out of someone – and not in the medical way – the Russian diplomat always found that desire concealed because of his position and house. Mafia, such a simple and generic name many people used nowadays. Oh no, Ivan was much more than that. And so was Yao. They were both members of the same vein, the same international – sadly, not yet global – organization. Such a good coincidence that red was the main color of their variant.

The Chinese would always tease him, with those half-lidded black eyes and scarlet-colored eyelids. They would casually talk for a few seconds, as a business façade, and as soon as the door was closed, their little activity began. Ivan took pleasure in always slowly undressing Yao, all the while rubbing and kissing, leaving the pale skin pink. As patient as the mature and older man could be, everything had a limit. Yao would only say it – no, demand it – once and Ivan would immediately stop and begin savagely consuming the smaller man.

Only after their third time, when Ivan was still awake after their session and Yao was already sleeping and turned the other direction, the Russian found another breathtaking detail in the other man. From those smaller and delicate shoulders to only centimeters up the Chinese's backside, there was a large tattoo of a red dragon. It was the symbol of Yao's house and it was absolutely gorgeous. Every inch of the color was deep in the pale man's skin; every curve and every detail of the draw was part of Yao. Any other tattoo Ivan had over his body in a prideful manner could never compare to this one. The Russian spent many minutes admiring that piece of masterpiece before he joined the other in dreamland. The next time, Ivan thoroughly spent it while kissing and inspecting the Chinese's back, admiring and honoring him with every lick and kiss. After that time, they were no longer business associates. They were lovers.

Siblings are a pain. Rather than business-related worries – they had, perhaps not surprisingly, been admired in every room they stepped in after the revelation – their real problem had been their families. Ivan sadly realized that Yao also suffered from a younger sibling's obsession and, while it was still very far from hell, it had been upsetting. And upsetting was never good for Ivan. With the ruthlessness they were both known for, each showed their position of respect to everyone that would've had any objections. Ivan, with his famous smiles and Yao… the Chinese man was much subtler than Ivan had ever been, and yet his words had forever marked in the young Belarusian. Of course, they tried to avoid permanent damages since those were still their families, even if they had almost no contact with their siblings. His older sister, God bless her, had been incredibly happy with the arrangements and understood the situation completely, even if she herself had never joined such a world.

A merging between "institutions", especially between theirs and under their common vein, could be considered a marriage; and that was the image both represented. The "communion" happened with only five members of each group and soon enough it was all over. They, and every one of their followers, had been joined for good and for worse. No other institution could ever win, be it Italian or Japanese.

Yao had been beautiful that day, or rather, night. By day he only wore a suit, like all others had. His beautiful soft hair was up in a ponytail, but he still exhaled that natural beauty of his. At night, he wore the tunic Ivan so gladly gave him as a present for their union: a vivid red tunic with large designs of dragons in it. It was a female clothe. After punching Ivan in the stomach – in a soft way, of course – the Chinese man reluctantly put on the outfit and gave the Russian a short, erotic show. It never needed much to leave the Russian hard with desire for the smaller man.

Today it was all red, as they requested. The walls, the curtains, the bed covers, the rugs… everything was composed of varying shades of red. This had been the most pleasurable time – of many more, Ivan hoped – they had while undressing each other's red garments and slowly, sensually, removing each item of clothe with initial care and later irrelevance. It was a dance, what they were doing. This was the first time they had enough time to divert more into their little games and both were loving it.

The Russian fur wine-colored coat was long forgotten at the side of the bed while the bright red tunic had already been removed. For the first time in his life, Ivan removed his long, cozy – and red, for the occasion – scarf, showing his most profound scar around his neck. He had been the most vulnerable at that time. Yao, as a response, let his hair down – now covering both their faces in the form of a black curtain – and kissed every inch of the new exposed skin while the Russian breathed slowly and rubbed the other's nipples in a caring manner. Feeling bolder once more, the smaller man started to lightly nip at the other's neck while Ivan's hands travelled further back. Everything became red while heavy moans echoed around the room and the rustling of fabrics quickened more and more.

Everything else had been a blur of red – red walls, red bed covers, red rugs – and a pale and pinkish skin with half-lidded ebony eyes and strands of hair covering his view. Everything was red and Ivan couldn't get enough of it.

A long drawn moan and the sound of his name brought him into completion, all blissfully red. He only got half of his senses back as he felt arms envelop him in a warm hug. Opening his eyes, he met twinkly black eyes and cheeks covered in red – Yao didn't need any products to display their favorite color, Ivan was sure of that. Smiling lazily, one eye already in dream's world, he gave a soft kiss over the other's temple. Yao laughed quietly and returned the loving gesture.

"Maybe I should change my hair's color, seeing you love red so much." He said it in a playful tone. Both knew that Yao would never change his appearance for such a superficial matter.

Ivan chuckled and kissed his hair lightly. "You're perfect jus the way you are, дорогой."

"неужели?" Yao said lightly in a surprisingly – perhaps, not, considering it's Yao – good Russian.

"да, мой красный любовь" Ivan nuzzled in the older man's hair, breathing in that aroma that was just so Yao, while whispering softly the romantic words.

Yao laughed softly and nuzzled himself in the Russian's arm. "I see you love to call me like that. In Chinese, it's我的紅色的愛"

"Ah, моя любовь, you know there is still a long way until I can speak Chinese like you can speak Russian."

"True." Yao smirked while stretching his arms to hug his lover completely. "It might take years for you."

"So mean!" Ivan said with no real bite in his words – not that he could ever hurtfully retort to Yao. Never to Yao.

"I believe that's one of the reasons you fell for me? It's surely one that attracted me to you, моя любовь."

Ivan smiled down to the Chinese man, who was already with a sleepy face and barely opening his smaller eyes. The Russian himself couldn't stay with his eyes open for too long, after their very long "activity" together. Kissing the other man's temple once more and after Yao had already closed his eyes and was breathing softly, Ivan felt himself falling rapidly into sleep. With one last glance, he took a look at the room – and the mess they made – and he was content knowing it was all red. They were laying in red, protected in red, he and his red love.

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><p><strong>AN:** The "institutions" are the same as mafia, hence the Italian and Japanese mention.

Дорогой = dear in Russian.

неужели? = really? in Russian

да, which is the same as "da". This one I'm sure everyone knows what it means.

мой красный любовь = my red love in Russian

我的紅色的愛 = my red love in Chinese

моя любовь = my love

I apologize if the translations are not correct, since I don't know either language.

The color/subject 'Red' in this story has many meanings: the color of both countries' flags and the subject of communism; the feeling said color gives, being violence (the mention of underground organizations and, well, just Russia/Ivan, really) and sex (the mentions of it in the story). This pairing has a nice contrast and for cultural and historical aspects.  
>Fieldings<p> 


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